


The Air I Breath

by Overly_Obsessive_Band_Geek



Category: The Amazing World of Gumball
Genre: Darwin has much angst, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Family Issues, Gumwin - Freeform, I'm so sorry, M/M, Read it anyway, This is trash, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 11:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5496257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overly_Obsessive_Band_Geek/pseuds/Overly_Obsessive_Band_Geek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darwin just wants to be loved, and someone to love. Unfortunately, the object of his unknown affections is his foster brother. Can things ever turn out well for him when his depression spirals out of control?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Air I Breath

Darwin's POV

        "Come on dude, we have to make cookies and decorate them! It's a Christmas tradition, and we only have five days left!" Gumball whines, pouting at me.  
    "It's also a Christmas tradition to let me sleep." I respond, rolling over in bed and pulling the blanket over my head. Inhaling, I grin slightly. The bed smells just like him, like ink and cat food and birch trees.  
        "Dude, you can't do this to me! I'll be traumatized! Years from now, when I end up in the mental ward, you'll find yourself wondering if you could have saved me by doing something as simple as baking cookies with me. And what's worse, you could've!" he says dramatically. A wave of longing for him strikes me, and it's almost more then I can bear.  
        "Might wanna tuck your flamboyant gay side back in there." I say teasingly, sitting up and throwing the blanket off me. He pouts again, then runs his hand through my messy orange hair before bouncing out of our shared room.  
     "You won't regret this!" he calls back as I climb out of bed. Judging by how hyper he is, though, I already know I will. Cold air hits my legs, and I realize I wore shorts to bed. It's definitely a good thing Gumball's already out of the room, then. Grabbing jeans, my black Vans, a forest green long sleeve T-shirt, and my Falling In Reverse hoodie(Ronnie Radke <3's you), I head into our ensuite bathroom. Showering quickly, I stand in front of the mirror, eyeing the cuts all over my body. By far, they're the worst on my thighs and stomach. Turning to the side, I note the scars where I once tried to cut off my gills on the side of my chest. Of course, that was before I knew there were others like me, animal and human. Shaking my head, I get changed and grab my phone and earbuds from the counter before heading downstairs.  
        'Wait!'  I think right before stepping out our bedroom door. I need my necklace. Putting it on so the heart made out of the Treble and Bass clefs rests in the middle of my chest, I relax. Finally done, I actually go downstairs now. However, when I enter the kitchen, I'm surprised to see Gumball is the only person there.  
   "Where's everyone else?" I ask, noticing that he's sitting lazily on the island, eating a bowl of fruit loops.  
      "They left to finish their shopping for gifts and stuff. I knew we were both done, so I didn't bother telling you." he says with a shrug. Grabbing my Cinnamon Crunch, I take in my adoptive brothers outfit. Black jeans, off brand black sneakers, a navy blue T-shirt, and a dark brown beanie that's falling off his head, almost. It  covers one of his neon blue (The same as his hair) cat ears, but not the other.  
    "Oh, OK. And how come you're sitting on the island?" I ask. He shrugs again, patting the spot next to him to indicate I should sit next to him(Why does he have to be so cute? I can never resist him for long.). Grabbing a spoon, I do exactly that.  
             "Because I wanted to." he answers me, laying across me to reach the radio slash CD player next to me. MCR's cover of 'All I Want For Christmas Is You' starts playing.  
    "I burned all the Christmas songs you and I had on the computer onto a disk for while we were working." he informs me, sitting back up.  
       "Oh." I intone. Just then I remember the 'assignment' our band director gave us for over Christmas break. We had to teach someone in our family to play a holiday song on our instrument.  
                "Wanna learn to play this on flute?" I ask him, jabbing a thumb at the music player as 'Jingle Bell Rock' comes on.  
   "Huh?" he asks me, confused.   
  "Remember Mr. Cable's 'assignment' for over Holiday break?"  
       "Oh yeah. Didn't the person have to not be in band, though?"  
      "I'm pretty sure they just had to not play our instrument."  
   "OK, we'll do that later. But first: baking!"   
     "Whatever." Anything as long as he keeps smiling like that. Which he will. He always does. Putting my bowl in the dishwasher, I pull open the cubard. Gumball hops down next to me, starting to pull out box after box. I'm pretty sure most of the mixes aren't for cookies, though. Once he finishes and turns expectantly to me, I put up everything that isn't a baking mix.  
     "How much are we making?" I ask him exasperatedly, shaking my head at the amount of boxes left. In response, he shrugs. Sighing, I separate them into boxes of the same type of mix. While I do this, he gets out eggs, milk, and vegetable oil, as well as mixing bowls and spatulas and a beater and such.  

***********

       Finally! We're done baking! (Cleaning up from it, too.)  
          "Do we have enough?" I ask from where I'm sitting next to Gumball on the island, eyeing the mountain of baked goods covering the counters.  
  "Never." he responds, yawning.  
        "It's only one, you can't go to sleep yet!" I tell him, standing up and stretching.  
                     "Well, no duh. We have to shoot those videos first!" he says, taking off out of the kitchen. Allowing myself a smile, I run after him.  We end up in our room, each getting out our separate instrument cases. I play flute, Gumball plays trumpet. One thing's for sure, and that's that this house is never quiet.  
  "I'll play on trumpet first, since I don't actually need to learn. Then we can shoot you on flute." I say, setting up our practice stand. He puts 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas' on it, and I prepare to play.  
       "Go." he says, and I start. It's always weird to play trumpet at first, since I don't play a brass instrument at all, but I get into the rhythm quickly. Once I finish, the camera is shut off, and out comes my flute, as well as the hard part. My neon-blue-haired brother learns quickly, at least, so this can't take that long. 

********  
   
        "No no no no no that's all wrong!" I say, adjusting Gumball's fingers again. The note is a simple 'G', but his fingers keep sliding off the keys. It gives me an excuse to fiddle with his fingers, though, so I'm not really that exasperated. He plays the note again, and for once his fingers are placed right.  
     "Finally." I mutter, rifling through my music for an easy piece.  
            "Oh, here it is!" I exclaim, finding the piece I wanted. 'Up On The Housetop'. Setting it on the stand, I lean back against the wall the bed's next to. The camera is set up on a tripod and already angled, so all I'll have to do is turn it on.  
    "We can shoot it now." Gumball says after reading through the piece. It's probably about thirty measures long, real easy, we'll have it shot in no time. Standing up, I go over and turn the camera on, the start videotaping it.  
      "Go." I tell Gumball, so he knows the camera is on. When he finishes playing, I turn it off and grab my flute from his hands.  
        "OK, we're definitely not doing that ever again." Gumball says, eyeing me like he thinks I'm going to bite his head off. Not that I would, of course.  
   "Agreed." I answer, putting my flute up.  
           "We're home! Why are there so many baked goods in the kitchen?" Mrs. Mom asks from downstairs.  
    "Crap." Gumball mutters, before bouncing to his feet and heading downstairs to assure his mothered that we have not, in fact, become buried under a veritable mountain of sugary treats. I pull the sleeves of my hoodie down over my hands and follow him, trying to keep from staring at his butt. When we get to the kitchen, I'm distracted from my crush by Mr. Dad.  
    "I get to eat these, right?"  
         "Not all of them." I answer quietly. I might be pretty open with Gumball, but not around anyone else. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my new TAWOG fanfic! For the record, they are not a couple yet, and both are assumed straight by the other.


End file.
